Gains and Losses
by TheVanishedGirl
Summary: Atticus Finch muses to himself about the aftermath of the Robinson case. Rated K for mild language. Please review.


I knew it would happen. As much as I tried to stay optimistic, to put off my feelings of foreboding to an old man's cynicism, I knew that this case would cost me something beside just my reputation in the town. And that didn't really matter. In Maycomb, you see, a reputation is a day by day concept. Sure, we have more than our fair share of die hard gossipers, and dramatics, just looking for a story to spread, but in everyone's own mind, if you did something stupid, depraved, or just mildly entertaining, it was the talk of the town, you were judged terribly, for a few days, a few weeks tops, then the whispers, and stares faded to conversations over coffee, and inside jokes. My reputation didn't worry me.

Ever since Judge Taylor handed me this case, I knew that I was in for a lot of sleepless nights. I've been asked many times why I agreed. I would like to say that there was a large, selfless, complicated reason of "for the greater good", or "protecting humanity," something that my children read about in their folk tales, and adventure stories, but really it's pretty simple. Tom Robinson was a hard working father, just like me. He wanted to do his best, just like me. His life had suddenly been seized by a force greater than himself and he had no control. The idea of not having a hand in your own fate scared the hell out of me. When the judge first mentioned it, I wanted nothing more than to refuse. ' _Oh, my caseload is full; I need more time with Scout and Jem; I want a quiet summer._ He probably would have listened, too. But, as I was leaving my office that day, the facts hit me. They hit me, hard.

Tom Robinson wanted a quiet summer, too. Hell, he wanted a quiet life. Don't we all? He wasn't going to get it. That was obvious. From the beginning, I knew that he was as good as dead. I had something important to show my town. As I always tell my children, "you don't know someone until you step into their shoes; climb into their skin and walk around in it." Tom would have to be the sacrificial lamb. It was completely unfair, but then again, so is life. (Sorry, there's my cynicism, again!) If I could persuade one member of the jury to realize how it would feel to have your life completely uprooted like that, simply because of circumstances that you were born with, we were going to get somewhere.

By the day of the trial, my worry about Tom was completely replaced with a mournful acceptance with small twangs of guilt thrown in every few minutes. My children, however, I was worried about. I tried to explain to them that we had no chance of winning. That my trying was more of a moral pretense then an actual attempt, but I knew that they didn't really understand. You know how children are; they don't accept outside of the moment, and sometimes not even then.

Jem showed a loud, moody, outrage, Scout, a quiet, contemplative indigence. It was a little unexpected. I thought their reactions would be the other way around. We had many long conversations about the aftermath of _People V. Tom Robinson_.

My first hint that this wasn't over wasn't from Bob Ewell, as you might think. It was Alexandra's reaction to my confrontation with him. Sure, she was a warrior. She was protective our family on every level possible, but the fact that she expressed her worry in front of Scout and Jem was what surprised me. She was the type who thought that individuals under the age of twenty one ought to be sealed from the truths of life, but that afternoon, when we argued about my safety, which, I admit, I believed was fine, she did it in the living room; in full view of Jem and Scout, as if she wanted them to be aware. I wasn't jarred at all by my run in with Mr. Ewell, but as time grew by and the crazy summer faded to a scarred autumn, I became a little uneasy. I expected to have future run ins with Bob Ewell. At the very least, a glare or an obscene gesture.

"What could Ewele do to me?" I asked Alexandra angrily.

"Something furtive, you can count on that," she said, equally indignant.

"No one has much chance to be furtive in Maycomb," I told her.

I fully believed it at the time, but as the weeks went on, I became less and less sure.  
The night of Halloween didn't feel any different. Scout and Jem went off together to the pageant, but they almost didn't come back. The thought of that scares me to this day. I try to completely balance my attitude as a lawyer to mine as a father, and I would like to say that I remained calm and composed that night. But, behind closed doors, I fell apart inside. I thought I knew what this case would cost me. My reputation, for at least a few weeks, Scout's innocence, Jem's faith, at least for a while, but I never thought that it would almost cost us our lives. This would go down in the Finch's' history.  
I wonder what Simon would think...


End file.
